Redemption
by Ren421
Summary: Elricest, Scar/Al; Following the heartbreak of an one sided incestuous relationship, Al learns to forget his shame, and a haunted, hunted criminal learns to live again in the pearly dawn of redeeming love.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Redemption

**Fandom:** FMA

**Pairings:** Elricest, Scar/Al

**Rating:** NC 17  
**Warnings:** Incest, yaoi

**Author's Notes:** AU, eventual OC

**More Notes: ** In lieu of my irritating block, I dug up, dusted off, and fiddled with this story. I wrote it, yea gods, forever ago, but with a little sprucing, I hope you enjoy it. I mean to add Sam, oh yeah, my beloved Sam, to the mix as the attorney who will defend Scar. What do you think? Perhaps Ed will find his own redemption with him.

**Disclaimer: **Have you seen a flyring pig lately? No? Then nope.

**Summary: **Following the heartbreak of an one sided incestuous relationship, Al learns to forget his shame, and a haunted, hunted criminal learns to live again in the pearly dawn of redeeming love.

Redemption

Chapter 1

His hand on the doorknob Alphonse heard the words sink into in suddenly frozen consciousness with leaden finality.

"I don't know how much longer I can keep this up," Edward was saying in Mustang's office, his voice low and stricken. "I love him, I do. And I owe him this, no matter what I want. I owe him everything for what I put him through."

"But Fullmetal," Mustang said patiently, his voice laced with pity, "don't you think it would horrify your brother to know you make love with him out of obligation, not because you desire him? Don't you think that would hurt him?"

"He'll never know. I'll make sure he never finds out…." Ed's words halted in mid sentence.

Al didn't even realize he'd made a sound, still frozen in shock.

The door was flung open, and Ed's face turned ashen to see his little brother's face so… agonized with shame and grief. "Al…." he said, hoping vainly that it was something else that had brought that look to Al's face. "Al." He reached out, and felt sick when Al recoiled.

"Niisan… you… we… Oh, God!" Al dropped his precious burden and turned and fled.

"Al, wait!" Ed cried, and stumbled forward, his pursuit of his brother halted by the debris at his feet. Numbly, Ed looked down and saw that the delicate bamboo box Al had so lovingly crafted and filled with treats had shattered to slivers when the younger boy had dropped it, cookies and snacks and tidbits scattered and now half crushed by Ed's foot. Rather like Al's heart, the older boy thought frantically. He was barely conscious of Mustang's shadow behind him, staring down at the broken shards as Ed ran wildly after his wounded brother.

"Oh, Alphonse," Mustang whispered softly, unable to conceive of the pain the younger Elric must be feeling right now. And he was afraid of what it would mean for the two boys he loved so much. Silently, he went to his knees and tenderly gathered up every bit of wood and cloth. The food he swept up later and disposed of, but he had a sinking presentiment that this shattered labor of love would be the last thing he saw of Alphonse for a very long time.

Mustang remained at his office almost half the night. And then finally, when dawn was streaking the east with the shades of gold and rose that Al so loved to watch the phone finally rang and woke the General from his doze. He'd been right. Alphonse Elric was gone.

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Edward was almost hysterical. A week had passed, and still there was no sign of Alphonse. Quietly, Mustang put out an APB for the missing boy, but Al was an Elric, and he was not surprised when not a single trace of him turned up. The days had slowly turned to weeks, and then to months. And the Fullmetal Alchemist was worthless to the military now. He spent his days and nights ranging the countryside, searching for his missing brother. When Al had run out of the office that day, he never went back home. Everything the boy had and loved still sat exactly where he'd left them. Al had run off into the big and lonely world with absolutely nothing but the clothes on his back. Every once in a while, Ed would pause in his endless and fruitless pursuit to return to the home that Mustang made sure was paid for out of his own pocket, to touch the things that Al had once loved so much, and fall into the bed they had shared, which by now no longer carried even a hint of Al's scent, and weep hopelessly.

Ed came back when a year had passed, and froze in the doorway of the little house he'd shared with his brother. Since the day that Al had left, he'd permitted nothing to be moved. Now, he stared into an empty and freshly cleaned space. Everything was gone. He was barely cognizant of Mustang standing by the window, turning to face him with a grim expression. When Ed exploded into furious screams and launched himself at his superior, Mustang fended the enraged alchemist off far easier than he had anticipated. Ed was but an emaciated hollow shell of his former self. The months of desperate travel had taken its toll. The last thing Ed remembered was the look of sad pity on Mustang's face as everything went dark.

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Far, far away, Scar turned from the book he was pondering to stare at the young boy sitting in a window seat, eyes staring off into the distance sightlessly, and sighed. It had been almost a year since he finally found the boy filthy, shivering and half dead from illness deep in the bowels of Central's underground waterways. Since waking half dead himself in the burning sands of what little remained of Lior, and after he recovered, of course, he made it his life's goal to find the armored boy who had somehow come to mean so much to him. All his desires of bloodshed and vengeance had been purged in the mass murder of so many Amestrian military in the creation of the philosopher's stone, and at first he'd been lost as to what he would do. For so long his burning revenge had been all that he had. But then he'd remembered Alphonse Elric; that impossibly pure and innocent soul bound in armor, and had wondered what became of him. It had taken him a very long time to find him, and then, he finally saw him.

Tall, slim almost to skinniness, his burnished shock of honey blonde hair a beacon the man could find in any crowd, no matter how numerous, the soft and luminous and incredibly beautiful bronze eyes. And nothing had changed. He was still pure, still kind and even more angelic now that he was in his rightful body. He would never forget the first sight of the boy, smiling shyly as his brother towed him up the stairs to the little house they'd shared. And something in his heart had been pierced. He'd seen the boy, now he could get on with his life, or afterlife, or whatever it was that the capricious Ishballa had granted him. But he couldn't leave. He lingered in Central, carefully disguised, and watched the boy whenever possible. He found out early on that the Elric brother's were lovers, and was stunned by the shaft of jealous rage he felt ever time he saw Edward. Likewise, he'd been on hand to see Alphonse run out of HQ in stricken tears. Concerned, he'd followed the boy, but lost him in the lunchtime throng. Expecting him to go home, Scar went there and waited… and waited… and waited. He saw Edward arrive frantically, saw him run in and out of the house several times throughout the endless night. And so he was on hand, standing very close to the open window of the den when Ed finally called his superior and sobbed about how Al had heard that he didn't want him, and had only been making love to his brother out of misguided pity and love, not mutual desire, and that he couldn't find him. And Scar's loathing of Edward grew to even greater heights. How could that boy have thought he could hide such a thing from his little brother? Unlike most people, even Ed apparently, Scar had never been misled by the gentle soul locked in massive armor. Al was not stupid, nor was he blind. He was real, he was human, and he loved and yearned and thought and dreamed. And he was amazingly quick and clever, with an agile mind that sometimes staggered the Ishballan. Knowing what he did now, it was only a matter of time before Alphonse figured out that Edward didn't love him like he did his brother, only a matter of time before the younger boy figured out what his older brother was doing. To a man in love, a mercy fuck was a terrible, life-changing blow. Especially when it came from the object of your desire. And to learn about it by overhearing your beloved whine about it to his superior officer had to be heaping insult on top of injury on the younger Elric's tender soul. Scar knew that Al had to be crushed to his very foundations. He instinctively knew that Alphonse would never return to this little house, or to his brother. Scar left that house even before Ed hung up, and never returned himself.

Less than a week later, he found the boy huddled miserable and sick in the fetid waters below Central, paralyzed by grief and horror and shame even still. He'd fought the Ishballan weakly, not even recognizing the man in his feverish delirium. But Scar was inflexible. He took Al far away, and nursed him back to health. And knew that he was in love.

Flashback 

Al came awake slowly, the ever-present misery and sickness almost comforting for a change. Feeling warm and dry and cozy, he rolled onto his back and froze. Something wasn't right. Blinking crusty eyes, he looked vaguely up at a darkly paneled ceiling. Instead of the familiar and constant drip of water, there was the soft crackle of a hearth fire. And he really was cozy and dry. There was a soft mattress below his back and a fluffy blanket over his body. Dread permeated his entire being. Had Ed found him? He struggled to sit up, filled with anguish.

There were large warm hands on his shoulders, urging him to lie back, but he struggled instinctively. "No…" Al croaked, his voice hoarse from wracking coughs. "Niisan, let me go. Let me go."

"Shhh… Alphonse, it's alright. Your brother's not here. Shhh…"

It took a moment for everything to filter through Al's panic. Though there was something vaguely familiar about the voice, the warmth of those hands and the scent of whomever was touching him was completely foreign. Only the knowledge that it _wasn't _Ed calmed him down, and that in itself made his heart ache more. There was the sound of trickling water, very different from the constant drip he was accustomed to, and then a warm wet cloth was gently cleaning his eyes. Blinking furiously afterwards, a face finally swam into focus. It took a moment for his still fevered brain to assimilate that face, and then another for the boy to decide whether or not he was hallucinating.

"Scar?"

For the first time, Al saw those pale, mobile lips shift from a thin stern line to a gentle smile. "Hello, Alphonse Elric."

"Scar!" Al's voice creaked and this time when he tried to sit up, the man helped him.

To Scar's surprise, the boy threw his thin arms around his neck and pressed his fever hot cheek against his own as well. The boy was throwing off as much heat as a furnace.

"I… I thought you were dead," they boy whispered thickly, and the Ishballan felt hot tears against his face.

"So did I," Scar whispered, touched to know his 'death' had affected Al so much. "But I'm not, and neither are you. I want to keep things this way. I'm right here with you, so won't you lie back down, Alphonse? You're a very sick young man."

Al wanted to argue about laying back down. Scar was alive and here! How he'd grieved for the man when he'd heard the Ishballan had died. But he'd done so silently. Naturally, Ed had not understood, so Al had to keep it all inside. But the truth of Scar's words kept him from struggling. Already his eyes were growing heavy. So heavy he could barely drink the cup of cool water Scar was holding to his lips. And then he fell asleep once more, comforted by the strong arms so firmly around his body.

End flashback 

It took a long time for Alphonse to recover. His mental pain increased his suffering, almost as if the boy had been seeking death, which Scar believed. He wanted to tell Al that he knew, that he commiserated, but the boy had been dealt a serious enough blow by his brother's actions. What little pride he had left would be devastated if he realized that Scar knew about his abject humiliation and grief. All the Ishballan could do was wait and hope that perhaps someday the boy would confide in him. Hope and pray because with every passing day, Scar fell a little bit more in love with the boy until the idea of holding him, kissing him, making love with him began to encompass his waking thoughts by day and haunt his dreams by night. In the reed slim, beautiful, purity that was Alphonse, Scar found his reason for going on.

But though the boy was physically affectionate with him, because such was his nature, Al never allowed that line to be crossed. The hugs never turned to embraces, the occasional pecks on the cheeks never turned into kisses, and the nights of cuddling never turned into lovemaking. Part of Scar was convinced that Al had begun to look at him the same, but Al always held back. The sweet and shy looks would turn to fear and he would huddle in on himself, sometimes for days. And so the days blended into weeks, and then into months. And like Edward before him, Scar couldn't help but indulge the boy in his newfound senses, watching with delight as his attentions finally pulled the boy from his gloom, and made him smile and then laugh.


	2. Chapter 2

Redemption

Chapter 2

Scar felt very awkward. He longed to bring pleasure and laughter to Alphonse's life, but he didn't really know how. For almost all of his adult life, he'd been focused on vengeance. He spent the last years of his life on murder. And before, he'd grown up in a war torn society. Scar didn't know how to play, and when Alphonse's natural playful nature finally emerged from it's cocoon of grief and pain, Scar wanted to nurture it, but didn't know how.

They were sitting on a blanket under a tree, the shade of which provided pleasant coolness from the afternoon heat. They were atop a small but steep hill, the tree its crowning glory. Now that Alphonse had completely recovered from his sickness, the two of them left the abandoned house they'd taken shelter in, and began to travel. This hill and its lone tree had caught Al's eyes from afar, so naturally Scar headed that way, and the boy had followed.

Al kept looked down the lush grassy expanse of the hillside below them, something playful lurking in his eyes. He kept rising to his knees, one hand tentatively on the ground, then he would grimace, and sink back down onto his rear.

Scar was sitting there placidly cross-legged, a feat of folding legs that had fascinated the boy, so Scar had shown him how. Al's natural limberness was extremely conductive towards intricate body positions, so he'd adapted quickly, and now sat that way ever time he took his legs out from under him. After about the umpteenth time the boy had leaned forward, then subsided, Scar quirked a brow.

"What are you doing? Do you have ants in your pants?" Now, Scar was utterly sincere in this question, deeming that something had to be inducing the boy into this strange behavior. But his innocent question sent the boy into gales of laughter.

"Something like that," Al confessed, wiping away tears. "Have you ever rolled down a hill?" It really was a rhetorical question, as Al couldn't possibly visualize the man in such an undignified endeavor, and as soon as the words left his mouth, Al felt silly, turned crimson, and looked away.

At first Scar didn't notice this, as his eyes were looking down the slope now too. "No, not by choice. I haven't fallen down for some time, thank goodness." But at Al's silence, he looked back. "What?"

"Nothing," Al said, hand reaching for the edge of the blanket to shred innocent blades of grass in his embarrassment.

"Why are you blushing? It's no shame to fall down from time to time."

This brought Al out of his funk with a vengeance. He gave Scar a startled look, and once again burst into laughter. The bell like tones brought another smile to the older man's lips.

"I didn't mean falling down the hill. Rolling. On purpose." Al was hiding his face behind his fingers, torn between laughter and shame.

"Really?" For some reason, most notably the laughter lurking in the boy's eyes, this intrigued him. He snatched Al's fingers away from his face. "Show me." He demanded.

For a moment, Al's fingers trembled in his, and then the boy snatched them back with a gasp. "I… I couldn't. It's silly. Forgive me, Scar, I forgot myself. I'm sixteen now. It's time to put such silly things behind me."

"Why?" As usual, Scar was precisely blunt.

Al was dumbfounded. "Because… because… I need to grow up. I'm too old to play now."

"Is that so?" Scar regarded him for a moment, then abruptly hurled himself down the hillside. He rolled head over heels, grunting with every jar and bump, and finally slithered to a stop about half way down. He felt somewhat dazed, and wondered that anyone would enjoy such a thing.

Al had given a shriek, leapt to his feet and bounded down the hill after him. "Scar! Are you alright?"

Scar blinked, for there was two of the boy for a moment, then grunted again. "And you enjoy this sort of thing?"

Al smothered a bark of laughter. "No, I'm afraid not. You didn't do it right."

"I told you to show me," Scar couldn't keep back a peeved note in his voice.

Giving the man a look of disbelief, he sank to the grass beside him. "O…okay," he stammered.

Feeling somewhat recovered, Scar sat up and watched the boy lay down in the grass beside him. The warrior in him took note of how he'd positioned himself with his side to the slope. Then the boy began to roll down the hill that way. It was a short ride, as they were almost half way down. Shrugging, Scar followed suit.

They lay together in the taller grass at the foot of the hill. "Interesting," Scar said placidly.

"It was too short. We need to start at the top. That's when it's fun." Al confided.

"Then get up, you lazy bag of bones. That hilltop's not going to come to you." Scar leapt up and bounded back up the hill. It seemed a pointless act to him, but if it gave Al pleasure, they would spend the day rolling down hills.

After a few successful tries, Scar was willing to admit it was interesting. The dizziness induced by the rolling had a rather soporific effect, and he couldn't help laughing. They staggered, giggling, back up the hill, and it reminded the man of the few times he'd allowed himself to get drunk.

"Let's do it together this time," Scar said, the euphoric feeling making him daring. He clasped the boy in his arms, ignoring the breathless squeak, and then laid down with him. A moment later, they were hurtling together down the hill, to fetch up in the taller grass below laughing helplessly. Al was underneath him, and Scar didn't want to squish him, so with a last roll, he had Al on top of him, and quickly regretted it.

He was filled with desire. The boy was so light, so warm and vibrant on him. Al's face was flushed, his eyes bright with glee, and the scent of the boy's sweat made him tingle with lust. The dizziness reduced his will, his natural reticence to almost nil. And when Al laughed, stating that now that was rolling, and tucked his face in the man's neck, he was lost.

"Alphonse," he gasped. "Alphonse, I love you." And regretted the words the moment they left his mouth.

Al froze, then lunged off him as if burned.

Scar sat up with a sigh, watching the boy with apprehension.

"You don't know what you're saying," Al muttered, sitting with his knees drawn tight to his chest, face hidden in them. "You don't know what an awful person I am. You can't love me. You just cant. I'm not the loveable kind." And the boy's voice was thick with tears.

"You're wrong," Scar whispered, stricken. Deep down inside, he knew that Al loathed himself, but to hear the words from the boy's beautiful lips made his heart falter, and made him want to find his brother and beat the shit out of him. "There is so much to love in you, Alphonse. So very much."

Al's gregarious nature, his honesty, had been festering in him for all the months they'd been together. And now the dam finally burst.

"No, you're wrong!" The words had a hysterical edge to them. "Do you want to know how loveable I am? I was fucking my brother. My brother! And he didn't want it. He didn't want me. And I made him fuck me. I made him. Made him!" And Al burst into shamed and horrified tears.

Scar snatched him close, and ignored the boy's struggles for freedom. "I know." He said softly. "I've known all along. And he lied to you, Alphonse. He made you think he wanted it too."

It took some time for Scar's confession to make an impression, and Al gasped, choked back his tears, and threw back his head, looking up into the man's face with horror and shock. "You… know?"

Scar kept his hard arms tightly around the boy. He wasn't about to lose him now. Al already knew the story of how Scar woke ill and half dead in Lior, and his wandering. But now he told him how it was Al himself that brought the Ishballan to Central. How he'd wanted to know how the boy had fared. And how he'd seen them, laughing, and fell in love with him. His rage to find that Ed had been lying to his brother about their sexual relationship. Lying about how he wanted it too. And that when Al had run away, Scar had looked for him until he found him. And then took him for his own.

"You're brother is a lying piece of shit," Scar growled. "You are frighteningly intuitive, Alphonse. He should have known it was a matter of time until you realized his crime. And how he would think it wouldn't hurt you is beyond me. But _I love you. _ _I want you. _ I do not lie. I have no reason to lie to you."

"Why?" This time it was Al's turn to be blunt, staring up at the man with tear drops sparkling in his copper lashes.

"Why? Why?" Scar was uncharacteristically loud and emotional. "Because you're beautiful, inside and out. There's a tenderness in you that feeds a burning need in my soul… if I still have one. I love to talk to you, hear your thoughts. I love your laughter, the sparkle in your eyes. The smell of your body drives me crazy. The feel of your skin fills me with desire. I love you. I want you. I have all along."

Al looked down, at where their bodies were pressed together in the grass. He could feel the evidence of Scar's desire quite clearly. And god help him, his own was responding helplessly. "Even knowing I practiced incest with a man that didn't want me? Even then?"

"He lied to you, Alphonse. From day one he lied to you. I'm not. I want you, so badly sometimes I want to scream. I want you now. Right here, right now. I want to be your lover." And finally, at long last, Scar kissed him. Al sighed, leaning into the kiss impulsively.

"Scar…" He moaned softly, arms tightening around the man. "I… I…."

"Don't say anything, sweetheart," Scar panted into his mouth. "I'm not expecting any declarations back. Just… let me love you. Please. Let me kiss and make love to you. Please, Alphonse." Scar's hand slipped under the boy's shirt, fingers trailing through the slick sweat of the afternoon heat. His tongue flickered into Al's mouth, stunned by the flavor of the boy. With a soft growl, he tugged Al's shirt off, his mouth falling to nuzzle his neck, licking and suckling so hard he left marks in the shape of his lips there. "Mine now."

Al whimpered and reciprocated. He'd been attracted to Scar all along, even as armor. It wasn't until he had a body that he felt the tug and pull on nameless places deep inside. When Scar's hands slid down his back, it arched, Al's head thrown back with a gasp as the man attacked his nipples, first one and then the other. Biting them softly, flicking the hardening nubs with a stiff tongue tip. Al squirmed, and suddenly found himself dumped back into the grass. Gasping in shock, he felt Scar's fingers at his belt, and laughed wildly. "Yes!" He cried. Why not? Scar didn't have a reason to lie to him. And one thing Ed had done, was waken his sexual nature. Scar wanted it. He wanted it. Why not?

Al's cock was fever hot, moist at the tip, and burning up in his pants. Then Scar jerked them down and off, and there was a split second of coolness, replaced by the burning rays of the sun on a part of his body that had never seen sunlight. Al moaned at the shock of sensations upon his body, dimly marveling that there were so many types of heat. Then he arched up with another scream of affirmation as the liquid fire of Scar's mouth engulfed his aching need.

Scar was beside himself with lust. "By Ishballa, you're so beautiful," he moaned, the words lost in the throbbing heat in his mouth. The boy was writhing in the grass below him, the heat of the sun making the scent of the boy's sweat and musk to rise into his nostrils, intoxicating him further. Burnished hair glinted against emerald green grass. His eyes were half closed, mere crescents of hazy passionate bronze. A magnificent blush suffused that whole deliciously slender body, and those long, long, endless legs were quivering over his shoulders as he feasted on the most sublime fruit of Alphonse's passion.

Al gave a sudden choking cry, his hips bucking hard into Scar's face, and then he came with a shivering rush, his shriek of climax filling Scar's ears like the most lovely music the man had ever heard. He drew back slightly, the better to enjoy the pulse and throb of the boy's cock in his mouth, loving every twitch, every hot gush into his mouth. So good, so sweet… Al's semen was as pure as his soul, and just as scrumptious. Scar's eyes fell shut, hands gripping the boy's rear tightly as he swallowed over and over again, like a starving man, until there was no more left, and the man _whined _for more, sucking gently, trying to coax a few more drops out.

Al gave a quivering moan, his head falling back into the grass, eyes shut, utterly spent, the sensation of Scar still nursing on him making him twitch and gasp. Then finally, the man released him, bowed his head against the boy's quivering belly, and shuddered. Then he drew the naked boy into his arms, clasping him tightly to his breast, and kissing feverishly, anywhere that he could reach. In between the moist hot kisses, the man murmured tender words in his native tongue, the meaning lost on the boy, but not the sentiment.

Al was flushed with pleasure, and stunned by the intensity. Scar made it seem almost like a religious, ecstatic union. As pleasurable as his nights with his brother had been, Ed had never made him felt so… precious, so treasured, so desirable. Al shivered when Scar's hard lips kissed the point of his shoulder, and his knee brushed against a very hard ridge below the man's robes. Scar hissed at the contact. Digging his toes into the grass, Al squirmed hard against him, trying to gain purchase against the man's body. His hands were tugging on Scar's robes. Shyly, his nose nudged the man's ear, lips warm against that delicate, sunburnt shell. And when Al's dainty pink tongue suddenly swiped against his ear lobe, then plunged moistly into his ear, Scar gave a shuddering gasp.

Al's hand finally made it past all the complicated twists and folds of that robe, shimmied past the rough woven nap of the undershirt, and then dipped under the rope knotted edge of the man's pants. His long slim fingers encountered a very large, very hot organ, and those fingers wrapped tightly around it. Scar yelped.

"Scar," Al whispered into his ear, in such a reverent voice, the man almost came in the boy's hand.

Scar's hand left the boy's lower back and trailed slowly across the damp heat of Al's shoulders. The sun was so very hot, and the heat of the boy's flesh was intense. And Al had such velvety soft, new skin. Suddenly, he stood up, taking Al with him.

"Scar, what's wrong?" Al asked, bewildered, then the boy hesitated, his face flushing with unease. "I… I'm sorry…" Al jerked his hand out of Scar's pants.

"No," the man said roughly, catching that hand and kissing it tenderly. "Never be sorry for touching me. Never. It's too hot. Your skin is too beautiful. I will not allow the sun to damage it. Come. Let's go back under the tree. I want to make love to you so much more."

Al gave a hesitant smile, which rivaled the sun in the Ishballan's eyes, and nodded slowly, allowing the man to lead him back up the hill with almost laughable haste. Then Scar pushed him down onto the blanket, loving the way the boy's long slim limbs splayed out against the rough blue fabric. He made a mental note to find a softer blanket, suddenly displeased with the roughness of it. Silks, satins and velvets should only touch Al's beautiful flesh. It took Scar two seconds to shed his complicated robe, and only a couple more to tear off his shirt and pants.

"Touch me, please," Scar whispered softly, taking the boy's hand in his. "Touch me again." He placed it against the hard line of his stomach, and hissed softly as it trailed back down between his legs again, curling around his proud cock. Scar twined himself around the boy, kissing and licking the soft, slightly pink skin of the boy's shoulders. Then a long groan left the man's lips, brushing across that soft skin as Al's lips found the very tip of his erection, tongue laving it slowly, peeling the foreskin back slowly to suckle the hard leaking head. Scar's hips bucked, and Al's mouth was awash with slick semen. With a growl, Scar's hand gripped the base of his own cock in a stranglehold, forcing the orgasm back. "Stop… Alphonse, my love, stop… not yet."

"Why not?" Al whimpered softly, his passions already reviving. "I want to taste you. I want you to come in my mouth too."

Scar's eyes crossed. "Ye gods," he gasped, his hand falling into those silken honey threads as Al bent back down to take him in his mouth again. "Alphonse… by Ishballa, I love you… oh yes…"

If there was one thing Al had learned by making love to his brother, it was how to give pleasure with his mouth. Scar fell back onto the blanket as Al hovered over him, eyes half closed with gratification as his throat and cheeks worked. Scar couldn't think to save his life as he watched his young lover give him pleasure like none he'd ever felt before. "Love… Love you… Alphonse!" And this time, the man didn't hold his climax back. And Al _purred _when Scar's semen filled his mouth and throat, the soft vibrations against the Ishballan's oh so sensitive flesh increasing the man's ecstasy a thousand fold.

"For… forgive me love… can't hold back… Ahhh…" And Scar was helpless to keep from thrusting wildly into the boy's mouth and throat. And Al took it, easily, happily, those delicious throaty growly purrs never ceasing even when he swallowed. Later, when sanity returned, Scar would wonder how that was possible, but at the moment, the man could only groan his pleasure as the green canopy dotted with brilliant blue blurred into a white glare. And from a distance, he heard soft whimpers and a hot wet heat against his leg.

When Scar's stunned mind finally began to work again, he felt unbelievably peaceful and happy. There was the distant whirr of grasshoppers, the soft susurrus of the wind through the leaves above them, and the gentle soft breath of the boy tucked so tightly to his side. Lifting his head weakly, he saw that Al had crawled up to his side, tucked his head on his shoulder, eyes closed, breathing soft and deep. A rusty chuckle escaped the older man to realize the boy was asleep. Looking farther down their bodies, he saw small pearls of his own seed caught in the silvery thatch of hair between his legs, his penis soft and spent. A chill bathed his leg just below his knee, and moving that leg, he saw it was drenched with white milky fluid and remembered the hot wet flood just after his own orgasm. Another soft chuckle at the knowledge that Al had come again. He tightened his arms gently around his young lover.

"I love you, Alphonse. Forever. I love you," the man whispered softly into the boy's sweat scented hair, lest he waken the exhausted young man. He'd never felt so complete before. Never. And he knew, come hell or high water, he would never give Alphonse up.


	3. Chapter 3

Redemption

Chapter 3

Scar watched Al plaster his nose up against the glass shop window, a small smile curling the edges of his mouth. The boy was utterly fascinated by the wares inside. Scar let him linger there, content in the knowledge that no one would recognize him as the wanted serial killer. Al had watched with unfettered fascination when the man had darkened his hair and skin with a watered down paste. It had turned the man's thick distinctive silver hair a rich mahogany, yet only darkened his skin enough that his too recognizable scar was covered completely. It was what had allowed the man to move so freely through Central when he was stalking Al. And it let him take the boy into the nearest town for some much needed supplies now. Al needed new clothes; the ones on his back now were so threadbare as to be almost rags. Little did the boy know it, but Scar planned to dress him in silks and satins and velvets; only those fabrics were good enough to grace the smooth perfect flesh of the young man he loved so much. He had wanted to discard that ratty old blue blanket, but desisted at Al's protests. It was too rough for such delicate skin, he'd told him, which made the boy blush. And Al had stammered back that he wanted to keep the blanket… it was on that blanket that Scar had first made love to him. Thus the blanket was carefully rolled up and hidden in the bottom of Scar's backpack.

But there was another reason Scar had brought them to this tiny township so far away from Central. It was time to settle down. He wanted a house, something he'd never thought to ever want again. But he did. Some place nice and cozy, with a gleaming wooden table where they could eat together, and a snug bedroom with a big bed, heaped high with silken pillows, satin sheets, and velvet comforters, where he could make wild passionate love to Alphonse every night and wake beside that beautiful boy ever morning and do it again. Scar shuddered. Alphonse Elric was such a delicious bundle of contradictions. He was so shy and demur in the light of day, but was so wanton and passionate at night. Or whenever Scar chose to claim the boy's sweetness.

He would never forget the first time he had taken the boy. It had been the same night as their hill rolling. Their camp was warmed by a fire, the light of which had flickered over the boy's beautiful perfect body, as he straddled the older man's hips, head thrown back, long silken hair caressing his thighs. His big hands had clutched Al's hips desperately, as he'd thrust heatedly into the boy's slick pulsing depths. He'd discovered, to his surprise, that here Al was still a virgin. Al had blushed and lowered his eyes, shame lurking in their depths when he told the man that Ed wouldn't allow Al to take him, yet couldn't keep his erection long enough to take the younger boy. Al had begun to weep softly, saying he should have realized then how his brother truly felt, when he couldn't keep hard long enough to take Al. Scar had roughly kissed the tears away, and then he took him, carefully, tenderly, with a stiff and urgent erection that never flagged once. The pain had been a bit more than Al had expected, bringing surprised tears to his eyes, but Scar had been very gentle. And then he'd hit that elusive spot deep inside the boy's body, and Al's eyes had widened in surprised delight as the pain fled to be replaced with amazing pleasure. Then Al had attacked him, riding him with delicious abandon, and then had screamed in ecstasy as he came, throwing his head back; an image that had burned itself into Scar's brain. Al had been very sore that night, and the older man had refused to take him for a couple of days, despite the boy's begging. No, Alphonse, I won't, not yet. We'll go slow. Take it easy. There's so much else to do… And Scar had shown him, with pleased happiness, and the boy had been very willing to learn, and oh so flexible and adaptable. Now Al could take his cock with ease, and loved it. Sometimes he threw himself at his older lover at unexpected times, and Scar always fell back with a shout of delight, ready for whatever pleasures came to the boy's devious and inventive mind.

And Scar was nervous. He was fathoms deep in love with the boy. But Al had yet to say he loved him back. Deep inside, the man knew he did, and that Al was just afraid. The fiasco with his brother had burned the boy painfully, deep inside his soul. It would take time, something Scar had an abundance of, and was more than willing to give. Watching Al now, window-shopping so happily, he plunged his hand into the pocket of his jeans, robes forgone forever now, and fingered the smooth cool band of silver in his pocket. When the time was right, when Al could say the words he wanted to hear freely, he would slip that ring on the boy's finger and claim him forever. Taking the ring out of his pocket, he felt the cool metal with a smile. One day… yes. One day.

A fat old man, intent upon his own business, bumped into Scar hard enough that the ring flew right out of his hands. With a cry of dismay, he watched it bounce into the street. Al turned in surprise, to see his lover lunge out into the street, and into the path of an oncoming military truck. For a moment, Al was paralyzed; was that Havoc behind the wheel? But he gave a scream when Scar looked up, astonished, the grill of the truck all the man could see.

There was a clap, a snap and a crackle, as blue lightning leapt from the boy's hands. A whole chunk of the street rose up, forming a smooth arc around the man, and the truck careened into it, gliding past Scar harmlessly and screeching to a halt a few feet away.

"Alchemy…" Scar said in a strangled voice, and Al flinched.

"Alphonse? Alphonse Elric? It is you! It is you!" Havoc's eyes were wide with shock and amazement.

Al just stood there, tears in his eyes, hands at his mouth.

With an oath, Scar swept the boy up, and ran, pausing only long enough to snatch up the ring.

"Wait!" Havoc screamed, his gun coming out. "Stop, or I'll shoot. Al!" And a shot rang out, a zing as a small chunk of the road came free when the bullet ricocheted between Scar's feet.

Scar stopped, back stiff. He didn't care about himself, but Al could be hit. Every muscle in his body tensed. He would fight to the death before he let that damned soldier take Alphonse away from him.

Al bucked in his arms, and the boy's feet hit the ground. And he ran.

Scar's heart faltered, until he realized the boy had positioned himself between Havoc and himself.

"No," Al screamed. "Don't hurt him. I love him!"

Turning, he saw that Al stood before him now, arms spread wide as he faced down his armed friend.

Havoc's grip wavered, and the gun dropped down, now held in loose fingers.

Al was tugging on Scar's hand. "Come on," he cried. "Let's go!"

Scar's fingers tightened around Al's and then they were both running wildly, shoving innocent standersby out of their way in their flight.

"Stop, Alphonse, please!" Havoc screamed, giving chase. "Stop them!"

Hands plucked at them, and then snatched the boy away. Scar wheeled, and smashed his fist into the Samaritan's face. "Let him go. He's mine!"

The man fell back, and Al was gasping in relief in his arms once more, and then they were running again.

They ran until Al thought his heart would explode. His feet faltered and he would have fallen, but Scar simply grabbed him and threw him over his shoulder and never stopped running. But even Scar couldn't run forever, and Al, precious burden that he was, wasn't exactly as light as a feather. Eventually, he staggered to a stop, and Al slid down, clutching the man as the crowds surrounded them. Scar turned, and shoved the boy behind him, snarling helplessly. His arm began to glow.

"No!" Al cried. Clapping his hands again, he laid them on the wall of rock, a massive edifice that encroached on the town's perimeter. Another crackle, and a round hole opened up, gleaming smoothly. Al grabbed Scar's hand again, and then they were vanishing into the cool gloom. Al paused only long enough to erect a thick barrier without closing the tunnel. Then they both collapsed into a panting heap.

Eventually, Scar sat back up, and reached for the boy in the utter darkness. "Alphonse Elric… did you…"

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" Al said, bursting into tears. "Please don't hate me. Don't stop loving me. I'm sorry. I know you hate alchemy, but I couldn't help it. I couldn't let you die. I couldn't let them take me away from you. Forgive me!"

"Oh, Alphonse," Scar said with helpless tenderness. "I don't care about that. I… I've changed. I still think… ah hell. I've been using Alchemy myself, no matter what I said back then. And I was about to use it again. And we know how that would have ended. No, you did good. You did the right thing."

"Then… you're not mad at me? You don't hate me? " Al was burrowing into his arms, shivering with relief.

"No, I love you, my little Alchemist. I love you."

Al's mouth was hot and eager on his, and Scar was helpless to do anything but respond. There was the rustle of clothing falling away and Scar pinned the naked boy between the cool smooth floor and his heated body. "Say that again!" The man demanded hoarsely.

"Say… what again?" Al panted, dazed with pleasure at what the Ishballan's hands were doing to him.

"What you said to that soldier that recognized you. Say it again!" Scar's mouth was groping the boy's neck, making it very difficult for Al to think.

"I said… I said… oh… I said… Don't hurt him…" Al gasped.

"And then…." Scar bit him, firmly enough to illicit a groan from the boy.

"I love him…. I love you."

Scar whimpered, shoving the boy's knees to his chin, his hand on his own cock, working it fiercely and spreading his copious precum all around the boy's twitching entrance. "Say it again!"

"I love you, Scar. I love you." And then he threw his head back into the warm firm cradle of Scar's free hand and shrieked in pleasure when the man thrust deeply into his body. "I LOVE YOU!"

"Alphonse…." And then neither could talk anymore, only pant and moan at the passion that overwhelmed them despite their precarious position, still so close to the town. Another alchemist could easily reveal them, but neither could stop. Not until Al gave another scream of love, coming hotly over Scar's belly and chest, making that man grunt and thrust convulsively once last time, emptying himself into Al's body.

They lay together, trembling with fright and passion and rage. Then Scar was up, scooping Al up too, and shoving the boy's clothes back on his body, and pulling up his own pants. "You're mine, now, Alphonse Elric, and I'll kill anyone that tries to take you away from me."

"Oh, Scar…" Already, their feet were moving, taking them farther away from that hateful place. Far deep into the bowels of the mountain. The man had the boy throw up barrier after barrier to slow down any possible pursuit, and they crept deeper and deeper into the inky darkness.

Finally, when the smoothness of Al's handmade tunnel gave way to the rough texture of natural rock formations, they realized they'd hit a cave of some kind. Scar's arm glowed and burst of light revealed what they feared. They were in one of the mines.

Using the light from Scar's arm, they ventured deeper into the mine, worried that Havoc would have men seeking the mines for them, and rightfully so.

Eventually, they came to an airshaft, necessary so deep in the mine. Al threw up a series of rocky steps, and they climbed up forever. Finally, they came out, surprised to see an inky sky, dotted with stars. Night had fallen. Al sank the steps back in, hiding their escape, and then, hand in hand, they continued the climb into the mountain. Scar had passed this way before, and knew they would have to make for the pass far above. Any climb down would lead back into the town, where the military waited to take Al away.

Al was stumbling, half awake, utterly exhausted. Scar stopped and held the trembling boy tight.

"I love you, Alphonse. I will never let anyone take you away from me. I swear."

Al murmured a soft thread of sound, too weary to speak. The boy felt Scar shifting, heard the thump of the man's pack hitting the ground. "We have to rest, sweetheart. Just for a little." And he pulled out that rough, scratchy and wonderful blanket. He lay down, Al still tight in his arms, and rolled them up in it, rolling a little to cover themselves in the spreading branches of some unknown bush. And Al was already asleep, breathing shakily into his lover's neck.

Dawn was breaking when Scar woke the boy, who sat up with a groggy moan. Scar kissed him fully awake with a soft laugh. The man had not slept at all. But he'd rested, and was ready for another day of flight.

The boy grimaced as he drank a cup of ice cold coffee. They did not dare make a fire. And Al, despite his continuing weariness, wanted to make love. It was difficult for Scar to resist. He calmed the boy with several deep kisses, then took his hand.

Al smiled tremulously, and then gave a gasp when Scar slid a ring of glinting silver onto the finger of his hand that signified marriage.

"You're mine now, Alphonse. And now the world can know it too."

"Oh, Scar," Al said, blinking back happy tears. Scar did love him. He did!

"Listen to me, love," Scar said in a low voice. "I should have told you this long ago, but I honestly forgot. But now that you're mine, I'll tell you. My name…."

Al looked up eagerly. He'd always wondered, always wanted to know. "Yes?" He asked eagerly.

"It's Damien. Damien… and don't you dare laugh… Couerlisse."

"Damien Couerlisse," Al sighed softly. "I wouldn't dream of laughing. It's… beautiful. A beautiful name for a beautiful man. I love you, Damien Couerlisse."

"It means heart light…" The man's face was red.

"And you are," Al whispered softly. "You are the light of _my _heart." And he kissed his lover tenderly.

A few minutes later, there was only a crushed hollow of grass and bracken under the bush, and the pair was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

Redemption

Chapter 4

Mustang sat at his desk and regarded the young angry alchemist. "I said no, and that's final. Fullmetal, you almost killed yourself. You are not yet fully recovered. I will not give you back your watch until you are."

"But I need that watch," Ed shouted furiously. "How else will I be able to go on looking for my brother? I need it!"

"You heard my answer, Fullmetal. I won't say it again. I suggest you put your energies into finishing healing instead of fighting with me. Then I will give it back."

It had become a daily argument since the boy got out of the hospital after his collapse. Since that time, Mustang had kept him close at hand. He didn't put it past Edward to go off anyway.

Once their daily fight was out of the way, Ed subsided to sulk on the couch. This was an improvement in Mustang's mind. If Ed could sulk, he was well on his way to recovery. At least the raging fury of the dismantlement of his house was finally behind them. Only when Ed saw that everything was safe and sound did he finally relent. He'd tried to rent the house again, but it was unavailable. Thanks to the bastard behind the desk. But Ed still wasn't well enough to effectively fight him, so he was biding his time. Once he found Al, Mustang would pay for his high handedness. Oh yes.

The phone rang, and Hawkeye told him it was Havoc.

"It's about time," the man grumbled. "He's hours late for checking in. Did he stop for a damn drink?" He picked up the receiver. "Havoc, you'd better have a damn good reason…." He fell silent. Ed stared at him disinterestedly, and then looked away. "Are you sure it was him?" Mustang went on. "He said what?? I see." There was another long silence, where Ed could only hear the murmur of Havoc's voice on the other end of the line. "The mines of Faldora, I see. Did you find anything else? Fine. Yes. Stay there. We'll be there as soon as we can. Make sure you rent enough rooms for us all. Yes. I will see you then."

Mustang hung the phone back up and stared at the young man still radiating anger. "Edward…" He began softly.

Ed tossed his braid. "Don't even start with me, Mustang. Don't think you'll soften me up by using my name. You can go fuck yourself and…"

"Al's been found."

Ed stiffened. He turned slowly to face Mustang, and stared at the man with a shocked face. "What… what did you say?"

Before Mustang could open his mouth, the boy was on him, shaking him furiously by his uniform jacket. "Tell me dammit!"

He threw Ed off and rose slowly, straightening his jacket meticulously. "I will, hold you damn water, you hot heated brat. Al was last seen in Faldora, a mining town on the outskirts of western Amestris. He was in the company of a tall, dark haired, dark skinned man. Havoc didn't get close enough to see who the man was, but Al gave himself away by using alchemy to protect him. When Havoc tried to stop them, thinking the man had kidnapped him; Al shielded him with his own body, saying he loved him. Then they ran away. Havoc enlisted the aid of the townsfolk to apprehend them anyway. He wanted to get Al. But Al made a hole in the side of the mountain, and the pair escaped into it., closing it behind them. Havoc sent his men into the mines, and got a local alchemist to begin opening all the walls erected. All they found was a boy's dirty undershirt in the tunnel, and nothing in the mine. That was hours ago. It will take us two days to reach Faldora. I suggest you make yourself ready in a hurry. We leave in less than an hour."

Ed stared at him for a moment, the spun and raced out of the room, even as Mustang was issuing orders through Hawkeye.

It was the longest, most agonizing two days of Ed's life. At last, he would find Al. He would touch his hand and beg his forgiveness. Mustang had been right. He should never have let things go as far with Al as he had. He should have known that Al would find out, and definitely should have known his little brother would not take the news well. But he'd been able to think of nothing else since Al ran away, over a year ago. Since then, all he could think about was the taste of his little brother's lips, the sound of his laugh, the drum of his heart against his cheek, and the feel of the boy's passion surrounding him. Edward may have started the sexual affair with his brother out of a sense of obligation, but it had become so much more in his heart, and he didn't even know it until after he'd lost him. He wanted Al back, in his life, in his arms, and in his bed. And he was absolutely furious about this strange man that Al said he loved. He would quickly dispatch him, and have his brother back where he belonged, with him.

Once in Faldora, Ed was cold as ice. Al had been here, two days before. His senses were so heightened, he almost felt as if he could smell his brother. He saw the alchemic changes in the street, and then the tunnel. Definitely Al's work. As he went deeper, Havoc arrived, and something passed from him to Mustang. A moment later, Mustang handed him the dirty white undershirt. Clutching it in his hands, Ed could actually smell his brother on it. He squeezed his eyes shut. He could finally, after more than a year, smell his brother.

They followed Al's passage into the tunnel, the periodic points where Havoc's alchemist had torn down Al's barriers plain to see. Once in the mine itself, the path was lost.

"They had to go this way," Ed heard Havoc saying. "By the time they got this far, I already had men at the entrance to the mine. They had to go deeper."

"So, you're saying they could still be in here." Mustang's voice was muted. He felt a prickle of fear. Al and his mysterious companion had been in flight, and a mine was a dangerous place to be, especially if you were not familiar with it, which Mustang doubted Al or his friend was. He was terribly afraid that one of the pair would be found dead, or damaged beyond repair.

Ed was strangely calm. Something deep inside him said Al was alive. And he trusted that feeling. Havoc walked right under an airshaft, without a second thought. Mustang paused, looked up it thoughtfully, and then continued on. But Ed stopped.

"Here."

The other two men stopped, turning back to look at the smaller alchemist. Ed had been almost completely silence since they entered the mountain, and his word now caught their complete attention.

"Here is where they got out." Ed was standing under the shaft, looking up with gleaming eyes.

"How can you tell?" Mustang asked quietly.

"I can see his signs," Ed said slowly. The boy clapped his hands again, and once more, rocky steps protruded from the shaft overhead. The ceiling was very low, and Al's companion had been tall. It would have been easy enough for the man to hoist Al up, and then catch hold and climb up himself. So Mustang picked up Ed, who did not complain, and watched the boy scramble up the shaft. It was easy for Havoc to find the little next where the two had spent the night, but the trail was soon lost in the rockier path above. Eventually, they had to concede defeat, and return to the town. Edward was beyond depressed.

It would be another three months before a new lead turned up. Mustang was sourly grateful that things were relatively quiet on all the Amestrian fronts because the close encounter with Alphonse had whetted Edward's desire to find him even more. At least the boy was sensible about it this time, more controlled. Ed wasn't running wildly across the countryside, neglecting his health. This time, the boy was using his phenomenal mind, picking the brains of the Faldoran townsfolk, and making carefully prepared climbs into the high pass above. Because of this, Mustang was willing to allow Ed several men to aid in the search.

On the far side of the pass, they found another little town. The tall dark man had been seen, but not the boy. Hopes revived, Ed pressed on. Two small towns down the mountainside, there had been whispered tales of a rampaging beast, the description of which could only mean that it was a rogue chimera. But the tales didn't stop there. The beast had been preying on the town for some time. Requests for aid from the military had either been ignored or had gone astray. Mustang, in Central, decided to look into these allegations upon Edward's report. It was difficult to conceive that _all _the pleas for help had gone… astray. Be that as it may, the townspeople there had stopped asking for help, because their not so little problem had already been taken care of.

He had the face of an angel, one woman avowed fervently. A young man, his delicacy belied by his alchemic strength, and enhanced by his obvious purity, had struck the monster down in the very act of trying to devour a child. The townsfolk proudly displayed a statue of a chimera. Their beautiful guardian angel had turned the beast to stone. They'd begged the boy and his stern guardian to stay and be welcome, but the boy had simply smiled sweetly and departed shortly thereafter. They didn't even know his name.

Ed stared down at a blurry photograph of his brother, smiling shyly into the crowd, a tall, harshly faced, yet somehow tantalizingly familiar face of the man with him tugged on his heart strings.

"His name is Alphonse Elric," Ed said softly, blinking back tears. God, Al was so beautiful. "And he's my brother. I've been looking for him for a long time."

The crowd murmured gratefully. Edward was stunned when he saw what one artisan had in his warehouse. It was a life sized, very good likeness of his brother, cut in stone. The townspeople wanted to erect it beside the petrified Chimera, to honor their savior.

"The Angel's guardian was looking for velvet," the quavering voice of an old woman caught Ed's attention. "We had none here. We're poor. But Iskander, a hundred miles from here to the east, has very fine fabrics. Perhaps they went there. The man seemed very keen to have a velvet quilt, but never said why."

In less than a day and a half, they were in Iskander. And again, Al was vividly remembered. A young woman, barely out of her childhood, told the military in a dreamy voice that a boy as beautiful as the moon had come into her parent's store. The man with him had bought several bolts of fine fabrics, including a great deal of velvet. They'd taken their goods to a local seamstress, noted for her fine work. The man wanted only the best, the girl remembered.

The seamstress had been wary, and unwilling to divulge whatever information she might have. Even Havoc's charm had no effect on the young woman. Finally, Ed's tear filled eyes, begging the needle woman to give him anything she could about his missing brother, finally swayed her.

The boy, whom the man had called Alphonse, had been embarrassed by his lover's purchases. They could only be lovers, the woman said softly, for the man, which the boy had called Damien, had kissed him so tenderly, so lovingly, as he convinced Al to allow her to measure him for rich clothing. The boy had balked, his beautiful face crimson with embarrassment, but after a few kisses, had finally given in. The biggest thing she'd made from them was two quilts, one was pure velvet, the other was velvet on one side, and amazingly dyed canvas on the other. Most of the products had been sent on to a warehouse in Smyrna, two hundred miles to the southeast, but they'd taken a few garments, and the velvet and canvas quilt with them.

Ed thanked her, paid her for her trouble, and they moved on.


	5. Chapter 5

Redemption

Chapter 5

When the State reached Smyrna, almost a week later, they found the purchases had already been picked up, to Ed's dismay. There had been no forwarding address, no additional news. But ironically enough, Havoc found the vital clue. There was an inn, not too far from the warehouse, where a couple matching Al and Damien's description had stayed. They'd spoken at length with an old man, who'd been dazzled by the boy's pure smiles, and had told the couple about a small town seventy miles into the hills. There was a small town there, not easily accessible, but with regular trade routes. The man was looking for a nest for his young lover, the old man had wheezed. And the town, in the high pure air of the mountains, had appealed to them both. He was certain they meant to head that way.

The village was as small and as quaint as the old man had said. It had an amazingly stocked trading post, but that was about it. A boy matching Al's description had indeed taken up residence there. But a dark haired man did not accompany him. No, the man with the boy had silver hair, almost reaching to his shoulders. He was obviously an Ishballan, for he had the red eyes, even if his skin was a bit darker than most of that race. They'd bought a small farmhouse high in the hills, coming down every few days to replenish their supplies. In fact, the trader was expecting them at any time today. A shipment had arrived, and the younger Mr. Couerlisse had been waiting for it anxiously.

"Speaking of which…" The trader's eyes lit up, when the door had chimed. "Here he is now."

Ed, feeling almost cold, turned slowly, and his breath escaped him in a low hiss, tears blurring his eyes.

Al looked… taller. His skin wasn't ivory anymore, but a deep honey, almost darker than his sun-streaked hair, which reached his shoulders now. He was smiling happily as he waved to a woman measuring out bolts of cloth, and then looked up. He saw his brother, the three men with him, and froze, eyes wide and dilated with shock. For one horrible second, Ed thought he might bolt.

"Niisan…" Al coughed. "Edward… what are you doing here?" The boy's hand was still gripping the knob of the front door, white to the knuckles.

Ed took a step forward cautiously, afraid his brother would run again. "Looking for you, Al, what else?" Was that his voice? So hoarse and trembling?

Al took a step into the room, his shoulders slumping. "As you can see, I'm fine. I have been all along. Go back to Central. You don't belong here."

Ed's heart ached. "You're out of your mind. I've spent over a year looking for you. I'm not just going to turn around and leave you here."

The door opened again.

"Alphonse, they have the seed you wanted at the granary. Are you sure you want a whole pound of it? I don't like the idea of you…" A tall silver haired man had followed Al in, the words dying on his lips as he saw Al's stiff shoulders, and then flicked his red gaze to the others still standing by the counter. "Shit!" The man reached out, grabbed the boy's shoulders and pulled him possessively back against his chest.

Ed took one look at the man's face and rage exploded in him. Sure, the scar was not in evidence, but Ed would never forget those eyes, that face. "You!" He snarled, leaping forward, the crackle of alchemy followed by the hiss of sliding steel as his armblade extended.

Al gave a furious cry, escaped Scar's grip and darted forward.

A moment later, Ed's head was rocking back under the force of his brother's open handed and brutal slap. It stunned the older boy, who stopped in his tracks and stared incomprehensibly at Al. "Al… what…"

"I am sick to death of people attacking him. Put your damn blade away, Edward Elric. You'll have to go through me first. Why the hell did you come here?" Al shouted, his voice uncharacteristically loud.

Ed retracted his blade at his brother's command even before he realized it. "I… I came for you, Al. I told you…" One trembling hand covered the vividly red handprint across his cheek. Behind him, Havoc too had recognized the man with Al.

"Scar…" He hissed, his gun up and at the ready.

"STOP STOP STOP!" Al screamed. "Leave us alone!" He turned back to his brother, eyes filled with loathing and sparkling tears. "Why did you come here? You're going to take the only one who's ever loved me. Why?" Sobbing, the boy backed up until his back was pressed to the man's chest. Large hands fell to Al's shoulders as he gently moved his young lover out of his way. "No, Alphonse," Scar said softly. "We always knew this could happen. Please, stand down."

Red eyes looked with weary resignation at Ed and Havoc, and the two men that likewise had drawn their guns. "Please, don't hurt him. He's only trying to protect me. I'll come quietly if you give me your word nothing will happen to Alphonse."

"No!" Al was moaning, turning to grip Scar's shirtfront. "No. I love you. They can't take you away from me too. No." He turned to his brother. "Please, Ed. Don't do this. He means everything to me. Please don't do this."

Ed was frozen, unable to move. He'd been turned to stone by Al's words.

"I'm sorry, Alphonse," Havoc was saying gently, waving the two men to take Scar into custody. "He's a wanted man. I just can't walk away."

Al's hands clapped together, but Scar gripped them, diffusing the alchemic reaction. "No, love. Enough. It's obvious we can never have what we dreamed. If we run away again, your brother will only hunt us down again. I don't want that for you. I wanted… Oh, Alphonse…" He managed to give the boy a gentle kiss before his arms were seized and he was pulled away. A moment later, his hands were shackled behind his back, his eyes only on Al. "I love you, Alphonse. Never forget that. Never."

"Damien," Al moaned, eyes streaming with tears, hands to his trembling lips. "I love you too." He watched the two men lead his lover away. Then his head turned slowly to look at Ed and Havoc.

"I hate you." He choked out, eyes burning through his tears. "I hate you both." Then he followed the others out of the store.

Spots danced before Ed's eyes, and for one hideous moment, he thought he might pass out. Al's eyes were so filled with loathing, his words of hate so sincere. This was _not _how Ed had envisioned their reunion, even in the worst-case scenario. Al… hated him now. Dimly he heard Havoc talking to the trader, ordering Al's prepaid shipment to be sent to Central for the boy.

"Pull yourself together, Fullmetal," Havoc said sharply. "You have your brother back. You know he didn't mean what he said. He's just upset. Mustang will give him leniency, you'll see. They won't execute the man. Once he's in prison, you'll have all the time in the world to make your brother realize a mass murderer is not the man for him. You'll see."

------------------------------------------

Al refused to speak to his brother, no matter how hesitantly and gently Ed tried to get him to. He spent his time riding in the cart with his shackled lover at first, then in the jail car on the train later. Not one word passed his lips to any of the military.

Fists clenched, Ed watched his brother through the open door of the jail car. The two were kneeling on the floor, fingers laced together through the mesh that separated them. Their brows were leaning together, again separated by the thin but durable material that Al so wanted to transmute away. His brother was crying. Al was always crying now, his beauty and purity somehow enhanced by his grief, instead of detracted.

"They'll kill you, Damien," Al was moaning through his tears. "I can't bear it. They'll execute you. They wont care about all the good you've done. They'll kill you. Oh, Damien…."

"Hush, love," Scar was saying softly. "It will be alright. I love you. And we'll see each other again one day, I swear. When your time in this life is done, I'll be waiting for you, I promise. And we'll never be separated again. Never."

"I'll follow you soon, Damien. You won't have to wait long. I'll be coming soon…"

"No! Don't say that. Promise me, Alphonse. Give me your word you won't kill yourself. Live for me. Promise me!"

At first Al was adamant, wild and distraught at the prospect of losing someone he loved, this time to death, instead of the realization that his love was unreturned, which somehow made him feel a thousand times more hopeless. But Scar was inflexible. He couldn't bear the idea of such a beautiful and pure light being extinguished because of him. No more deaths, because of him. And finally, Al relented tearfully.

"I promise…." The boy's voice was so lost and forlorn. "I promise…" And Al could speak no more.

As Ed turned away, unable to bear anymore, he saw Scar's trembling fingers reach through the mesh to tenderly touch Al's hair.

A little over an hour later, Ed was back in the jail car. They were sitting on their rears now, leaning against the wall, the fingers of their closest hands still linked through the mesh. Al heard him walk in, and refused to look at him.

But when Ed turned, and alchemically sealed the door to the rest of the train, he looked then, with a vengeance. Watching his brother with narrowed eyes, Al couldn't believe it when Ed then turned and transmuted the mesh into tissue that shivered, and fell in a heap. When neither of them moved, Ed turned, walked over to his brother, and squatted down on his haunches. In his hands was a significant amount of money, which he shoved into Al's unresponsive ones.

"Listen to me, Al," Ed said in a low strained voice. "I know you hate me, and won't talk to me. That's fine, I'll do all the talking. I'm sorry. For everything. I never meant for any of this to turn out the way it has. And after today, I know I'll never see you again. I just wanted to let you know that. Set the record straight. I love you Al, and I know what I did was wrong. I swear, I never meant to hurt you. I love you. I was afraid that if I turned you down, you would leave me. I couldn't bear that. I just couldn't. You're everything to me, you always have been. I couldn't… I just couldn't conceive of life without you. I know that's no excuse, but I was scared of losing you. And I swear, I was only motivated by love. It was selfish, and I'm sorry. God, so sorry. This past year has been hell. After you left me… I realized what a fool I'd been. No matter what, being your lover was an honor. I came to find you because I wanted you back. But not like this… Not like this. In a little bit, I'm going to stop the train, and seal all the cars but this one. I wont unseal them for twenty-four hours. By that time, you will both be long gone. I won't come looking for you ever again, I swear. Once I get back to Central, I will do everything in my power to clear Scar's name. Then, maybe, you wont have to run and hide anymore. God, I'll miss you, Al, so much. I just want to ask a favor. It's not a demand, or equivalent exchange, but… a favor. Because you did love me once. Here is the address of a post box. It's mine. Please, just write me once in a while, to let me know you're alive and well and happy. If you ever need anything, please let me know. Just… don't disappear forever without a trace, please. I'll be able to live without you if I know you're okay. " Ed gasped, raked the back of his hand across his tear streaked face, and stood up, without waiting for an answer.

"Niisan…" Al gasped, lunging to his feet and throwing his arms around Ed's neck. "I don't hate you. I was just upset and scared. I love you. I always will. Thank you! Thank you for doing this for me. And I will write, I swear. I will."

Scar watched something flicker in the older boy's eyes as he held his little brother tightly for a moment. Whatever had motivated the older Elric in the beginning, it was clear that Ed was in love with his brother now.

"Edward Elric," Scar said, his voice cutting through the brother's long awaited reunion, "Did Lt. Havoc inform your Fuhrer about my capture?"

Ed stepped away from the intoxicating warmth of his brother and nodded. "It doesn't matter. By the time I let everyone out of the train, you will both be long gone."

Scar shook his head. "No. It will never work. I was willing to live with Alphonse because everyone thought I was dead. Now that they know I'm not, they'll never stop looking until they find me. I will not make Alphonse live such a life. He deserves so much more, and now I can't give that to him. I will not condemn him to a life on the run with me." Scar turned around, went back onto the prisoner's side of the jail car and sat back down with a sigh. For a moment, he'd felt hope.

"Don't be stupid," Ed said harshly, fists clenched. "And don't think for one minute I'm doing this for you. I'm doing it for Al. Now get the fuck off the floor and get ready. I won't have him crying his beautiful eyes out because you're a stubborn mule."

Al scrambled over to Scar and sat in front of him, leaning into the man, his slim arms around his neck. "Please, Damien, do it for me. I love you. I can't live without you. Please, let's go before he changes his mind."

"Do you have so little faith in me, Al?" Ed asked hollowly. "I know… I know I made a mistake. A big mistake. But I did it out of love. I swear I did. I wanted you to be happy." Ed turned away and stared blindly out the glass of the car door.

Al had the grace to blush. "I'm sorry, Niisan. That was uncalled for."

Ed made a jerky motion. "Forget it. It doesn't matter anymore. Do what you want, Scar. I can't stop you. But I will go out there and make sure they don't cuff or lock you up again. If you choose to come to Central with us, it will be under your own power; of your own free will. Hell, maybe it will help me convince Mustang to give you a full pardon." And without another word, he walked out of the jail car.

"Damien," Al said anxiously after his brother had left, "are you sure? We can get away. He'll let us go. I don't want to lose you."

Scar cupped Al's face tenderly. "I'm sure, little one," he said with the softest of kisses. "Your brother is right. If I go to Central of my own free will, perhaps your Fuhrer will grant me leniency."

Al crawled right into his lover's lap, and Scar was more than content to hold and kiss him softly over and over again.

"I'm scared," Al whispered finally, tears streaking his face.

"Don't be," Scar whispered back softly. "No matter what happens, I'll always be with you. Do you understand?"

"Yes, but I want you here, where I can touch you, smell you and taste you. I spent so many years unable to do that, I don't want to give that up with you." Al tucked his face into the crook of Scar's neck.

"I'm here now, love," Scar reminded him gently.

Al lifted his face, sniffed endearingly and nodded. Then he began to kiss the man, slowly, lingeringly, using all his charms and skills to entice his lover into responding.

TBC


	6. Chapter 6

Redemption

Chapter 6

Fuhrer Roy Mustang stared out the large, clear paned glass that formed the window behind his massive desk. A crystal glass of exquisite workmanship, filled with the finest cognac money could by, rested forgotten in his left hand. Below him on the grassed colonnade below stood the Fullmetal Alchemist; bright of eye, as firm and healthy as he had ever been before. It was hard to credit that the leanness of his travels as he searched once more for his brother had passed so quickly. Not only was Ed physical at his peak, he was mentally as well.

Right now, Edward Elric was teasing his long lost little brother Alphonse, who turned his head away to hide pink cheeks. Mustang sighed.

Only with Ed did Al show any of his customary ease and pleasure in life. With everyone else he was cold and stiff. And he held Mustang, Hawkeye, and Havoc as little more than candy stealing, hero murdering despots of the worst sort, and refused to speak so much as a single word to them since his arrival a week before.

Mustang endured this stoicly; after all, Scar was a serial killer, a mass murderer, and the number one enemy of the state. It was right and good that the man, however bizarrely he'd managed to survive the destruction he'd wrought in Lior, rested in prison awaiting a trial. But it was damn hard to look into the beautiful bronze eyes of Alphonse Elric and see something akin to hatred there. For Al to hate put that object on the same level as child molesters, baby killers, and Satan himself.

Hell, the only reason Scar was going to get a trial was because of Al. Had anyone else been the wanted man's lover, Scar would already be rotting away in his anonymous grave with the other condemned. No… for the reward of being the recipient of Alphonse's love and passion, a trial had been forced upon the council. Mustang himself had grimly touch said council to shut their mouths, Scar would get a trial.

And the ungrateful brat had merely sniffed, given him a wounded look, and whipped away, silken hair almost slapping the ex general right in the face.

And to hear the soft choked cries that night, when Mustang had gone to the boy's room to try and make him see sense, he'd paused, hand on the knob.

Soft, wounded keening of a broken heart… of Al.

Roy was suffocating. Al had endured, and lost, so much already. Why, oh why did the boy have to fall in love with Scar?

Mustang was the leader of this country. Sacrifices had to be made for the greater good. Scar had killed so many alchemists in his quest for revenge. He'd murdered countless good men in the formation of the Philosopher's Stone in Lior. That couldn't just be ignored simply because Alphonse Elric was in love.

No matter how close to Heaven that boy walked.

Mustang squared his shoulders. It would have to be. However, rather than execute the man outright, as should have been done, as the council, yea, even most of the citizens screamed since the news of his capture had spread, Mustang had insisted on a trial. Even hiring the best firm for the murderer's defense. He had no doubt that Scar would be executed anyway, and then they would have to deal with an angel's shattered heart, but it had to be done.

Had to be done.

It was hard to remember that when those soft, molten eyes turned hard and metallic whenever they turned his way. To see those rosy, plump limps thin into pale hard lines.

If Mustang, with his resolution of national leadership found it hard, Hawkeye was almost crushed to be labeled 'wicked' in Al's eyes. But Mustang was right. Scar had done very evil things, and had to be held accountable for his crimes. But if she cried sometimes in the dark of night, no one ever knew, even if some guessed.

As for Havoc… he was devastated. To be hated by the youngest Elric, the gentlest creature alive, was on par to having his lady love abandon him. Not that he had a lady love… This break with Al left him stunned as an ox, much like when he'd met Armstrong's sister, Catherine.

Al simply couldn't forgive the man for capturing Scar, for bringing him back to Central, for separating them.

*************************************

"C'mon, Al," Ed wheedled. "You know you want to." Honeysuckle eyes danced with mirth. At last, Ed had his brother back at his side. Sure, the boy was now Scar's lover and not his, but well, he'd caused that himself with his foolishness. All he wanted now was to somehow, any way, make Al happy.

When Al's head turned away, with the hint of a blush, Ed was thrilled to his metal and flesh toes. Yes, Al had forgiven him, but the relationship they now shared was nothing compared to what they had, even before Ed messed up their sexual liaison, even before they became lovers. But at least they had a relationship. Al had nothing to do with anyone in Central, save his brother. He had yet to see Scar since their arrival in Central and Scar's imprisonment. Something he held against everyone as well.

"Fine," Al finally snapped, trying to stay angry. "Since you insist, I'll go. But why the hell you want to have such games at night is beyond me." He couldn't understand why Ed was so insistent for this "midnight excursion". The dark of night was his time to mourn and grieve and plot. Mustang was far to canny to be put off by thoughts of revenge and prison breaks.

Yes, he'd finally agreed to wait for Scar, but he was finding it unendurable. He had to see the man, had to kiss him, had to know he was healthy, strong, and free. His heart burned and ached for Damian. And he knew they would put him to death, no matter what Mustang said about trials. Damian would die, and take Al's heart with him. Plotting at night was the only way to stay sane. Once the sentence was called, Al would free him… somehow…

So for Ed to want to have even a part of that precious time was almost unthinkable. But Ed was so insistent. And once more being in good kinship with his brother, he found the older boy as difficult to resist as he ever had.

Al would give him this one night… and no more.

However, several hours later, stumbling through the dark, blindfolded, the feel of crumbling brick beneath his fingers, the stench of mold and decay deep in his nostrils, Al couldn't help but wonder what the hell his brother was up to. Al had better things to do than wander blindly through the night, beloved brother or not.

"Where are we going, Niisan?" He asked petulantly for the thousandth time that night. But this time, instead of his brother's teasing answers, he tensed.

"Shhh… They'll hear you…"

Lt. Havoc! Al ground his teeth. He would have nothing to do with the man! He began to struggle…

A door scraped open, Havoc swore softly when Al's fist miraculously connected with his midsection, and with a quiet oath, Ed shoved him through cool portal, and even as Al was trying to maintain his balance, stumbling even as he ripped the blindfold away, the door slammed shut behind him with an ominous slam. Tumblers spun, locks clicked, and Al knew he was locked inside.

**AN**: I know it's short and abrupt, but I'm trying to get back into the story any way I can… I'm struggling through his writer's block and will win if it kills me. Bear with me… and wish me luck.


	7. Chapter 7

Redemption

Chapter 7

Warning… lemon ahead

"Alphonse?"

The words was soft, shocked, and spoken with a hint of desperation. And Al immediately recognized it.

"Damian!" The damn blindfold came away, and even as Al threw it away, strong arms encircled him, drawing him up and close, a mouth hungrily closing over his.

At last. At Last! Al laughed recklessly into his lover's heated mouth. He didn't care how this had come to pass, or how it could end. All he could think of was that Damian was with him, holding him, kissing him, loving him. He would think about ramifications later. A second later hot tears leaked from his closed eyes.

Damien was lost in Al's lips. It had been the longest week of his life, both before and after this death. Alphonse Elric was the most potent drug on the face of the earth, and Scar was helplessly, hopelessly addicted. Like Al, he knew he would die very soon, and though those thoughts tormented him while he was alone, right here, right now, all he could conceive of was Al's warmth, his taste and scent and sensation. And the kiss was so delicious, something he wondered if he would ever taste again. And so he drank, and drank and drank… until he tasted salt.

Their lips parted with a tender moist sound, and Damien's fevered eyes stared down at his young lover's tearstained face, moist of eye, swollen of lip and pink of cheek.

Then Al gave a soft choked gasp, and buried his face in the Ishballan's neck, fingers digging desperately into the older man's cloth covered back.

"Damian… oh god, Damien…" A deep shuddering breath, then a soft cry. "I love you… I love you so much."

"Alphonse," was all that Scar could rumble in his deep voice, catching that slim body up in his arms. God, had he eaten anything in the past week? He scarcely weighted more than a feather to the older man.

He laid Al down on his bed with all the delicacy of a glass ornament, and Al was too far-gone to notice the soft comfort upon which he now rested. Even as Scar laid him down and leaned back to look upon him, he refused to let the older man go, following the warmth, keeping his nose buried deep within Damien's intoxicating scent.

There was so much he wanted to say to his white haired lover, so much that needed to be discussed, for Al would never survive his execution, but not a single coherent word passed his lips. Only soft needy mewls.

Damien, however, felt no need for explanations, no necessity for plans or talk. As far as the big, dark man was concerned, any moment with his precious Al was a gift to be enjoyed to the fullest. After all, he died in the blazing heat of a desert city and the furious flash of an alchemic storm. Only to live on to find peace from his tormented soul in the passionate love of an extraordinary boy once bound in iron. He was not one to look such a priceless gift askance.

If Al wanted his heat, his adoration, well, then, he would have it.

His fingers flew, fabric fell aside as quickly as any alchemic reaction, and warm velvet over steel was revealed, ticklish with pleasure and heated with passion. A warm tongue delved into a deep, shapely navel, and Al's belly hollowed out with a laughing, gasping coo. Pale slim limbs encircled dark, flexing muscle, a hiccup of pleasure, and a deep wet thrust over Al's quivering manhood.

Bronze hair spread over the pristine white pillows as the boy cried out his surprised pleasure, even as large, strong hands cupped perfect buttocks, bringing the arching boy higher, closer, deeper, swallowing around that warm thickness so deep in his throat. And once more, he was drinking, drinking, drinking the sweetest elixir, the most fragrant spice, and the most intoxicating essence.

And Al was left, moist and quivering and spent for but a moment. But if he was Damien's drug, so too the young man found his older lover as necessary as the air he breathed. The more of Scar Al partook, the more he wanted, the more he needed, the more he had to have to survive, and right now was no exception.

The unsated heat poured off the older man. Desire rolled over Al from his lover in thick, cloying waves. Dark, sleek flesh quivered like fine horseflesh, causing Al to squirm at the notion that Damien was his stallion. Arms and legs lifted, caught the older man, and ensnared that eager, impassioned body. Drew him down upon his own slim and still needing form. Opened to Scar with a cry of desire, and closed around him with a moan of fulfilled shock at the mindless thrust that followed.

Al was filled to the brim, in a fashion he'd never felt before, despite at the times they had come together before. Pleasure and a bite of pain flared whitely, encapsulating them both in a hot embrace. The endless thrust and withdrawal gnawed at the edges of their passion.

A hot tongue stroked down Al's bare thigh even as a hotter spike drove all the way to his very soul. Al writhed in an embrace that should have been awkward, with one leg over Damien's arm and the other hooked around his working hips, but it was as natural as the breath in their bodies, and all either of them were aware of was the contact of hands and lips, the slide of moist skin, and the thrust and arch of the oldest activity of all.

It seemed to go on forever, yet ended all too soon with a final shivering push, and a gasping moaning shriek of orgasm blended with the growl of completion, and they were at rest. Hot and spent, hearts thundering, pulses ticking, and the cool of night sucking glowing heat away from smothering them.

"My love," Scar finally said in a throaty growl, having been unable to articulate his feeling until now. "My love."

And all Al could say was a soft purring agreement, and the boy nestled closer still to his lover, and felt peace and contentment wash over him. For the moment, at least, he was where he belonged and all was right with the world. Bronze eyes were dreamy and flushed, and closed soon, slumbering trustingly against a man that would sooner die than abandon him.

Even as Al succumbed to satisfactions succor, now Scar held his smaller, younger lover, and struggled not to cry over having to leave such a passionate and warm love behind.

***********************

Havoc and Ed lingered for some time once they pushed Al through Scar's prison door. Ed blanched to hear the ensuing passion through the small barred window high in the door, and turned away, clenching his fists. Though he had no one but himself to blame, it still hurt to hear the abandon with which Al greeted a lover that was not his brother. What had once bothered him, now chewed on him in its loss.

Havoc took one look at the younger man's grim, set face, and with a flash of dismay, realized what was going on. Ed _loved _his brother, in a most unbrotherly way. Though the blond rifleman was not privy to why Al had run away in the first place, he understand now what this moment meant to Ed, and felt sorrow and pity through his shock.

He watched Ed's desperate retreat but a moment later, and shook his closely cropped head; very glad he was not alchemically inclined. Alchemy wrought strangeness in those foolhardy enough to dabble in such accepted sorcery. Just look at Mustang. And now Edward… Far from condemning the younger man, Havoc could only pity him, and hope that he would find his way home from the darkness that now surrounded him.

And an hour or so later, when Al's and Scar's passion finally ran its course, he was still at his post. When sleep finally claimed both lovers on the other side of the door, Havoc finally turned his post over to his colleague, and nodded to Hawkeye, who took one look inside the little window and gave a pale smile.

Two of those the most despised by someone so gentle looked upon each other with understanding commiseration, and Havoc went to his bunk feeling both a little lighter and heavier.

The world moves in the most mysterious ways.


	8. Chapter 8

Redemption

Chapter 8

When dawn broke the next morning, filling the closed in cell with a soft rose glow from the small window near the ceiling, Scar was still awake. There was no way he was going to waste a single moment of time with his little lover on something as commonplace as sleep. He lay just about on his side, Al tucked quite securely against his chest and flank, snuggled close. Their legs were tangled together, and one of Al's arms was flung over Scar's side.

Damien stared down at the lovely boy in his arms, taking in the soft flush of sleeping cheeks, brazen lashes in thick fans over the tops of his cheeks, with their faint dusting of freckles. He was breathing softly, slightly parted lips revealing a faint hint of teeth, and the warm air washing over Scar's mouth and chin was humid, with a touch of musk from earlier endeavors.

The older man's heart contracted. God, how he loved this boy. As much as he'd hated before his death and rebirth in the desert sands, as much as he'd lusted for revenge, he now craved life with the sweet morsel in his arms. A long life, filled with laughter and tears, joy and pain, years and years and years with the angel that conquered his vengeful heart long before the decimation of Lior.

There were no more years; the life he'd led since Lior, since he found this sublime creature in the sour waters of Central's sewers, over. No more mornings past the next few. The trial would run its course, and he would die. And Alphonse would mourn.

That smote Scar more than the idea of his own demise; that Al would grieve, hurt and agonize. Even over leaving his sweet and gentle lover. Al would cry and scream from pain. And that was what was killing the older man.

Damien had no doubt that Al loved him. The boy was generous with his emotions, always had been. He'd told the older man this numerous times with his eyes and heart long before their discovery in Faldora, and Al finally saying the same with his mouth. Alphonse Elric loved him, Damien Coeurlisse with all his might and main, with every fiber of his heart and body, and every thought and deed. Al loved him, and would be crushed to his very foundations when Scar was executed.

Those wondrous molten eyes would run silver with bitter grief; those rosy lips would tremble with gasping cries of pain. That warm and beating heart could possibly still and this bright and vivid creature would turn dark and cold.

His own eyes burning ferociously, Damien lightly stoked Al's cheek, soft and warm and velvety like a summer-warmed peach. How he wished for a way, any way, to save this loving and gentle man such pain and suffering. But it was far, far too late. Al loved, and Al would grieve.

Soft drops dotted those sleeping cheeks, from the dark and sorrowful eyes of a man that had sworn years ago that he would never weep again.

A pair of eyes watched the trembling caress, the fall of silent tears. A heart contracted.

Havoc turned away from the little window of the door, trembling fingers over his mouth. Ed may have tracked them down, but Havoc turned them in. Havoc caused them to be brought back in chains, facing death. Havoc caused Al to face the loss of his heart.

And to see Scar weep over the boy was like watching something warm and wonderful die.

He leaned against the wall, facing away from the prison cell, and stared determinedly ahead. The lawyer would arrive today, and perhaps, despite everything, this would end well.

It just had to.

**************

Al came awake to a soft and dreamy passion. Something was pulling, tugging gently on a fiery center between his legs. God.. the sultry pleasure, the silvery locks between sleep befuddled fingers, dark lips suckling greedily…

"Damian…." It came out as a long soft moan as the boy's back arched and rushing wet heat flooded the other man's mouth thickly, intense pleasure plucking deeply within Al's body, followed by a soft stab of sated lust with every swallow that followed around his softening member.

Scar, his tears spent and all signs vanished, sat back with a satisfied look about him, swallowing the sweet and sharp mouthful he'd pulled from his young lover.

So delicious…

And he wasn't even really hard himself, though it wouldn't take much to get him that way. Drinking from Alphonse was like a holy sacrament to him. Something to be indulged in whenever possible, no matter what reciprocation came his way. And now, watching his flushed, his sleep and passion tousled lover, he was once more rewarded by the sharp lance of joy right through his heart.

Al stared sleepily up at his older lover for a moment, then shook off the last vestiges of slumber like an old blanket and was in Scar's lap, arms twined firmly around that sinewy neck, legs wrapped tightly around a flat waist, and a rear rubbing slowly and enticingly over a crotch that was hardening so swiftly, it hurt. Lips fused and breath was shared.

And to make matters even more erotic, both were naked, and last night's pleasure was continuing to leak slowly from Al's body, raking wet heat across Scar's lap. Al gave a happy squeak, twisted his hips deftly, and with the skill of months of passion, impaled himself on his lover's rigid spike.

Scar cried out with sudden unexpected pleasure. God, had Al always been able to take him so fast, so deep, so suddenly?

Considering that said boy's face was once more flushed with pleasure, eyes dreamy, mouth slightly parted and panting softly as he rocked in Scar's lap sensually… evidently so.

Alphonse was not often an instigator, though he was always eager when they made love, so it made this interlude all the more exciting to the older man's mind. Young hands pushed him down against the mattress as the blond hovered over the other, knees digging into the downy softness of the bed as he rose and fell, pushed and pulled, drove and retreated.

Big hands found slim hips; all the better to help the boy ride him, and the thrusts became even more forceful, deeper, harder, and more erotic. Scar arched up every time Al drove down and their bodies slapped together in counterpoint to hurricane breathing, deep groans and mewled cries.

It didn't take long, despite the previous nights passion, and they froze together, grinding hard against each other, one seeking to crawl inside his lover, the other seeking to envelope him from utterly. There were jerking spurts deep inside one, and hot pulsing ribbons striking chest and cheek of the other.

And then it was over. Al collapsed over his older lover, both physically and emotionally, and began to cry softly.

He couldn't do it. He couldn't let Damian leave him behind. He couldn't be without his dark and silvery lover. He couldn't let his heart break, the other stop breathing. He couldn't do it…. Trembling whispers washed over Scar's perspiring face.

He wouldn't….

And Scar saw the burning resolve in the other's eyes, and sighed softly, knowing there was trouble ahead. When Al got that most Elric like look in his eyes, there was no swaying him.

And he was right. Several moments later, both were settled back into the bed, and Al stared at his lover as if he'd never seen him before. Scar was uneasy to see such a stern look on that young and loving face.

"I won't do it," the boy declared suddenly.

Scar didn't pretend to misunderstand. "You may very well have to."

"No, I won't." Still stern, unyielding. "I know you say you do not want a life on the run for me… but do you want me to grieve forever? I will you know. I will miss you forever, and I will never dare love again. You're it, Damien. You are the one, the only. Once you are gone, I will be alone forever. Do you really want to do that to me?"

Scar sighed softly. "There is still your brother. He loves you, you know. Like you did him. He loves you like that now."

Al was silent a long moment. He had already figured this out; not only on his own, but because Ed had let him know early on that his feelings for his brother had only grown more intense, more passionate.

"But I loved you this way first," he said forlornly. And it was true. He'd been born loving his brother, in a most familial way. I was only after he'd gotten his body back, and been drowned with sensation that he learned to love his brother erotically. But though he couldn't feel the sensations before when he was armor, the way he felt about Scar now was the same as then; only now he could feel every delicious sensation of it.

Despite the wistful tone of voice, Al's eyes were hard as steel. Scar would have his work cut out for him trying to dissuade his young lover to leave him to his fate now, no matter how yielding he'd been before.

But before Scar could find any retort, there was a sharp knock on the door, followed by just enough time for Al to gasp and burrow deeply into the blankets of the bed, which, despite his insipient embarrassment, he suddenly noticed were crisp and clean and woven of fine cotton.

Scar almost leisurely reached over for his linen overshirt, as crisp and clean as his sheets, and slid it over his head just as the guard, to wit, Havoc, opened the heaven wooden cell door to allow his Fuhrer to pass through.

Mustang showed no surprise to find a smaller lump in the bed, quivering slightly. An almost not there smile graced the dark haired man's lips. Of course he was well aware of who his prisoner's guest was, and was pretty sure what they had been doing.

"It is time to get up, Scar," the Fuhrer said coolly. "You and your lover both. You have a visitor, and I hope you will avail yourselves of his services."

A rosy-cheeked Al finally peeked out of the nest of blankets to blink owlishly at Mustang.

"He is one of the finest up and coming young lawyers of our finest law firm. Try to be decent when he arrives shortly, will you?" Without waiting for a response from either man, Mustang strode briskly out the door. The man was unsure how to feel about this newest development.

To be sure, it had been done with his knowledge; dealing with an angry, heart aching Al had been terrible. Yet, Scar had done so much evil towards the State; an entity to which Al, his brother Ed, and Mustang himself owed so much. Their homeland. But Mustang was also wise enough to know that forces of war had driven the silver haired man, who was no citizen of Amestris, but a refugee of a people the State had tried very had to destroy. Scar was Amestris' terrorist, but he was Ishballan patriot. Everything was relative.

However, for Al's sake, he hoped that the Amestrian courts could be persuaded to have such a liberal view as this.

Pausing for a moment to survey the attorney sent to the prison by the State's most prestigious law firm, he hoped that this young man would be up to the task. After all, both Al and Ed were exceedingly young, yet so skilled in their fields. So too must this young man be. He would have to be, for Al's sake.

Back in the room, there was a quick frenzy of motion as Al threw on yesterday's clothes with amusing haste. Unfazed by this latest event, having indeed been informed from the beginning of his upcoming trial, naturally, Scar stayed the overwrought young man long enough to take care of a few glaring discrepancies in his attire; most notably turning his shirt right side out, and closing his fly.

Al couldn't help the bubble of laughter that rose in his throat; as well as rising hope. Though there had been no time to fully hash out Al's point of view, he knew that Scar had caught the gist of it, and the younger man would dog his lover's very steps if necessary, to ensure the best possible outcome of his trial.

Because if that failed, Al would have to take drastic measures, no matter what Damian had to say on the matter.

Thus both were presentable when ten minutes later, a dark haired young man in his twenties, with gray eyes and a dusting of freckles across his nose, was ushered in.

Upon this young man's slender but unbowed shoulders, their fate would rest, at least for a while.

**AN**: Gasp! Is it… could it be… Sam???

And… am I.. is it possible… Alive???

Only the shadow knows…

But we can always hope, lol.


End file.
